


Memories of You

by Teaacaakes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Any continuations welcome!, Burnt out Victor, Character's Name Spelled as Victor, Character's Name Spelled as Yuri, Coffee Shops, Memory Alteration, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Skater Victor Nikiforov, THIS FIC HAS BEEN DISCONTINUED, Witch Katsuki Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 09:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17722805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teaacaakes/pseuds/Teaacaakes
Summary: After realizing the man he shared the happiest moments of his life was never real in the first place, Victor Nikiforov's life goes off the rails and his skating is harshly affected. He has almost given up hope until a coffee shop and a chance encounter sets him back on the right path.This fanfic has been discontinued, which means I will no longer update it. I had written it on a whim, with no idea where I wanted to take it. It was also written so that I could get a good feel of the platform. If you wish to continue the story, please feel free! I'm curious to see what you guys can come up with ;*





	Memories of You

Victor Nikiforov has memories of a man who didn't exist.

He has spent what feels like, in his memories, a lifetime with him. Almost every good memory from as far back as he could remember were with him. His name was soft on Victor’s lips, molded perfectly to fit them. His eyes, like amber sloshing around in perfect harmony with a pool of liquid chocolate, were forever branded in even the darkest parts of his mind. He couldn't imagine a life without them. His hair, as far as he could remember, was fluffy and silky, and he has many memories in which the two of them just sat together as Victor gently ran his hands through those raven colored strands. He remembers his touch; soft, loving, longing? It was as if the two were lovers, soulmates bound to one another unconditionally. It was different compared to his much colder reality, where he lived to sleep, work, and sleep again in an endless cycle with no escape to it. Sometimes, if not all the time, he desperately wished the man from his thoughts would just appear in front of him and take him into his arms, assuring Victor everything would be ok as Victor clung close to him and quietly sobbed into his shoulder. But he had always dreamed of something that couldn't be.

Victor can crisply remember the moment he found out that the truth he had lived by for years was nothing but a farce. He had let his curiosity get the better of him, and had decided on a whim to look up the name of the man he shared so many memories with. He had been hoping to possibly reconnect with him, who had seemed to leave from his life as quickly as he came for he was not alongside him in the present and had never tried to contact him previously. After doing extensive research with only the knowledge of his name and his looks, his results came up fruitless. Stepping back from the computer he used as his vessel of information, hands shaking, he realized the vile truth that the memories he had based his entire life on never existed in the first place.

It had been a few months since that day. Victor never knew whether or not if looking for his man of mystery was the right thing to do. Some days he simply wished he still lived in ignorance, and foolishly waited for the day that his knight would appear to him and take him away from this dull and monochromatic life. Victor sighed dejectedly, returning back to that reality as he finished tying up his skates and made his way out of the locker room, where the ice rink would be waiting for him.

“No no no!” Victor looked up from where he had completely flopped his quad salchow and fallen square on his ass and saw his coach just at the edge of the rink shaking his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously disappointed in the lackluster performance he had just seen from him. “Vitya, stand up. What has gotten into you these past weeks?” He asked gruffly as Victor managed to stand back up on the ice. Victor looked down, thankful his bangs covered his eyes as he could not bear to look at his coach’s disappointment in him. “I'm sorry coach,” he began, but was promptly cut off as his coach said, “No excuses, Nikiforov. Take a water break and then get back on the ice. I want to see skating worthy of those national titles you hold to your name,” and, saying no more, walked out of the rink towards his office. Victor leaned against the wall of the rink, sliding down and sitting as he felt the beginning of warm tears welling up in his eyes. How was it possible to miss somebody who was never real this much? Every time he skated, he was reminded of him. His first memory of ice skating was with him, and it always felt different compared to his other memories. It seemed more real, but that was impossible. He isn't real, he will never be real, and Victor will have to learn to accept it for what it is. Victor didn't even realize his unshed tears had begun to fall.

At the end of the terribly long session, which had slowly gone downhill since his water break, Victor silently stood outside the doors of the rink. Georgi, his rinkmate and fellow competitor who had come out of the rink a few seconds ago, quietly pat him twice on the back before walking ahead of Victor. It was as if he was trying to tell Victor to stay strong, and that he was going to move past this. However, his attempts were futile. Georgi didn't, couldn't, understand the pain within Victor’s heart. The knowledge that he would never be able to meet the one he had unconditionally given his entire heart to outside of his memories. He didn't need Georgi’s poor attempt at sympathy. He needed to get out of here, and needed to go anywhere but home.

He went where his feet would take him, and they led him to a quaint little coffee shop almost on the outskirts of town. As he entered the tiny cafe, the sharp scent of coffee grounds mixed with the sweet, syrupy scent of the pastries being cooked alongside them hit him immediately. It was like being in the eye of a hurricane, in which this place allowed him solace within the great trauma he had been experiencing nonstop. He inhaled the scent, before stepping in farther. It was… nice.

Everyday after training Victor made his way to the small coffee shop, oddly named Yutopia. He nearly memorized the route after only a week. He often talked with the family who owned the cafe, the Katsuki family. Their daughter, Mari, was the main barista and his age. They talked frequently, and had somewhat become friends. Her father, Toshiya, was in charge of most of the deliveries to the coffee shop and actually made most of the recipes himself. He learned this from Mari, who would often complain to him about the failed recipes that were too bitter or too sweet. Toshiya himself never really talked to Victor, but the two still seemed to have a mutual understanding of one another. And lastly, Hiroko. Saying Hiroko was a gift from the gods would be a gross understatement. Hiroko treated Victor as if he were her son, a treatment he had only received once before from his coach. She would often slip him complementary treats, and when Victor had tried to pay for them, Hiroko insistently refused. He felt more at home in the coffee shop than he did in his own apartment even though the family seemed suspiciously familiar to him, almost as if he had met them once before. However, Victor would have remembered meeting such a generous and kindhearted family and disregarded such thoughts.

As Victor left Yutopia with small cup of his usual coffee, he began to head in the direction of his house. However, as he turned the corner of the block, he violently bumped into somebody going the other way. The person had been holding a rather large box, and most of the contents spilled out. They bent down briskly, quickly trying to pick up everything they had dropped as their raven colored hair bounced softly up and down. Victor stared awkwardly at them for a few moments before clearing his throat and saying, “Do you need some help with that?”. He began to reach for one of the objects, which appeared to be a large teal marble before the stranger held up their hand to block him. “No thank you, I'm almost done,” the stranger said in a soft, slightly deep but not too deep voice. Victor felt himself shiver. There was something eerily familiar in the way he spoke. The stranger then suddenly stood up, having collected all of his things. “Sorry about that,” the stranger began, turning to face Victor.

Victor felt his stomach drop as far as it could possibly go and heart skip a beat.

Warm, brown eyes with amber hues.

Chocolate pools.

No way.

“Yuri?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like it! This is one of my first fanfictions so don't be afraid to criticize me in the comments!


End file.
